Ricochet
by detective-wiseass
Summary: "Maura could feel the tension in Jane's fingers against her spine. She could see in Jane's eyes the fierce and fiery cop waging war with a woman plagued by fear, and it scared her. She hadn't seen that particular look in a while." Jane tackles a case with a cold. Maura does her level best to keep up. Long one-shot. First Rizzles fic. There will be more.


The "Boston's Finest" Gala had been a regular event since the city had gathered two years ago to celebrate the accomplishments of two local heroes. Some city officials balked at the idea at first; the original celebration had been intended as a one-time occurrence in recognition of special circumstances and remarkable people.

It also ended with a tragic bang. A domestic terror attack manifested itself as a lethal car bomb that took the life of one hero, and prematurely drove the other back into active duty.

Every autumn since that night, as she dressed to attend the yearly gala, Detective Jane Rizzoli couldn't keep herself from flashing back on that night. The confusion, the terror, the pain. The frustration at feeling so vulnerable and inadequate in the face of injustice.

For the most part, seeing the domestic terror case to its true end had helped her reconcile with the tragedies that tainted that night. But as with any case that made its way so close to home, some lingering melancholy still found her long after the crime was solved. And it found her most easily when repeated events dredged up old associations, uncovered old scars.

Thus, it was with disconcerting scenes of the past fighting for air time with more pleasant anticipations of champagne and familiar company that Jane stalked through her apartment, hunting for her BPD uniform.

"Where did I put that damn thing?" she muttered to herself. She sniffed angrily and dug a wadded Kleenex from her sweatpants pocket; the cold she was fighting made her brain foggy. "It's not in the closet; I didn't stuff it under the bed." She threw her hands up. "Where the –?"

A soft but insistent knock at the door to her apartment cut her off.

"Jane?" came the familiar voice on the other side.

"It's unlocked," Jane called.

Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, opened the door just enough to slip in, and closed it gingerly behind her. She had what looked like a dry cleaning bag and hanger slung over one shoulder.

Jane scowled. "Okay – why are you walking in here like you're gonna get yelled at?"

Maura lifted her chin and met Jane's eyes in a flash of indignity. "You said yesterday that closing doors too loudly aggravated your sinus headache. I'm just trying to be as little of a nuisance as possible."

"Maura, you're completely ridiculous sometimes, but never a nuisance." Jane smiled in spite of herself.

As Maura grinned back, Jane took in her black dress with only one shoulder and stylish red patent heels with cork soles. Her smile dropped as the outfit reminded her of what she had been in the middle of doing – or trying to do – when Maura knocked.

"I can't find my uniform," she whined in reply to Maura's questioning head tilt.

Maura's grin reasserted itself as she held out the hanger and plastic sheath. It had something bulky and black inside. "That's because you left it at my house last year."

Jane rolled her eyes and shook her head vigorously in exasperation with herself. "Really?" It was all she could do to keep from stomping her foot. She took the bag from Maura, who was clearly fighting an amused smile. She eyed the hanger, assessing its contents. "You had it dry cleaned?"

Maura nodded.

"And then you just…hung on to it for a year?" Jane's brow furrowed, eyes never leaving Maura's.

Another nod, followed by a wide-eyed shrug and a slight flick of red-blonde curls.

Jane lowered her head and glared, her own, unruly dark tresses falling forward.

"At first I just kept forgetting to return it," the medical examiner admitted. "But then I realized you would probably just shove it under your bed – and rather unceremoniously, I might add," she said, raised finger emphasizing her point, "where it would just get wrinkled and dusty again. I frankly didn't see the point in returning it, Jane." She added with a shrug, "Not until you actually needed it."

Unable to contest the truth of this statement, Jane conceded with mumbled thanks and a reluctant smile.

"Are you sure you're feeling up to going?" Maura asked. Her hand clutched Jane's arm in a gentle gesture of concern as they descended the steps to Maura's car. Jane hated being fussed over, but the doctor in Maura could not ignore the difference in Jane's voice; there was no mistaking the effects of severely congested sinuses…and perhaps a slight fever, judging by the flush in the detective's cheeks.

"I'm fine, Maura," Jane insisted brusquely as they got in the car. "It's only a couple of hours, anyway. And then I'll go to bed right after."

Maura just watched her, hands on the wheel.

Jane returned the look. "Maura! We have to go!" She attempted to sniffle quietly, loathe to make Maura's point for her.

Maura started driving.

"Besides. It's not like I've gotta go up and give a speech this time."

After "a few words" were said and medals were pinned on reluctant chests, those in attendance at the Gala were free to mix and mingle over champagne and light hors d'oeurves. A small group gathered to discuss the "In Memoriam" portion of the ceremonies, given in honor of the recently deceased Detective Barry Frost (among others). Maura stood beside Jane and listened to humorous stories being shared, but noted that Jane clearly lacked the heart to join in the conversation. Discomfited facial expressions from those nearby indicated to the medical examiner that some thought Jane's reticence out of place. After all, Frost was her partner when he passed, so if anyone had stories to share, it would be her.

But Maura understood what others could not. For Jane, the grief was still too fresh. She needed more time, in the quiet of her own mind, to process the loss and come to a place of acceptance. Talking about him now, so soon, would only bring the pain to the surface, making it visible to others. Maura knew that Jane felt her weakest when she thought her pain was on display for others to see.

"Rizzoli, you remember when Frost tried to show your brother how to dance that one time?" asked one of the other homicide detectives.

Maura understood that humor was the easiest way for these detectives to cope with the loss. But it seemed that no one but Maura noticed Jane's struggle to match their enthusiasm.

Another chimed in,"Ha! How could we forget? Frankie hasn't got moves to save his life! God, that was too much." The circle shared in a laugh.

Maura watched Jane force a brave smile, saw the nervous shift in her gaze. Felt the detective's hand at the small of her back. Maura was certain that Jane was unconscious of the gesture; she recognized it as a common reaction for the detective to project her unease onto another and then reach out physically as though to comfort them in her distress. It was her way of reassuring herself, of making certain that those closest to her were still near and whole and safe.

_So complicated, Jane, _she thought. _So tense. What's really bothering you? _Jane was becoming increasingly shifty, and Maura began to wonder if it wasn't entirely to do with the subject of Jane's dead partner.

The warmth of Jane's hand on Maura's back abruptly left.

"Jane? What is it?" she asked quietly.

Jane didn't answer. Instead, her dark eyes grew suddenly distant, zeroing in on a face in the crowd on the far side of the ballroom. The detective muttered a quick "excuse me," and ducked out of the circle, clearly having had enough of the conversation. Curious and concerned, Maura quickly followed suit, leaving the cluster of detectives baffled in their wake.

Even in such a concentrated gathering of uniformed officers in one place, Maura could easily pick out Jane's tall, slender frame amidst all the other black shapes. Maura managed to weave in that direction with both speed and poise, but it was almost as if Jane didn't want to be followed. She moved with a quickness that belied a person who complained of feeling "fluey".

Maura finally intercepted the detective, grabbing her arm. "Jane, stop," she hissed. "Stop, and tell me what's going on."

An unexpectedly pleading look came into Jane's eyes as she whipped around to face Maura. "I'm just going to the ladies' room." The near-break in her voice made Maura's heart constrict. That wasn't necessarily where she was going, Maura knew, but those dark eyes begged to be excused from further questions. The medical examiner took a slightly different tack.

"Okay. Then you can tell me later. But," she leaned closer, hazel eyes intense with concern, "I want to know what's _really _bothering you, Jane."

Jane nodded, face registering relief. She took Maura's hand in gratitude. As if by way of concession, she said softly, "I just can't do this right now."

Maura nodded. It took a great deal, she knew, for Jane to admit even that much. The detective turned to head for the restroom once again, but paused to squeeze Maura's hand one more time. For a heady moment she seemed on the verge of leaning in for a kiss –

And froze. Her eyes were once again on the other side of the room, tracking the movements of one person in particular. And her hand once again found Maura's lower back.

Maura could feel the tension in Jane's fingers against her spine. She moved to face Jane directly, now determined to get the detective's attention long enough to extract a straight answer. When she had Jane's eyes again, she grabbed her hand to make sure she was paying attention. Without thinking, almost habitually, Maura's thumb gently brushed over the scar on the back of Jane's hand. She could see in Jane's eyes the fierce and fiery cop waging war with a woman plagued by fear, and it scared her. She hadn't seen that particular look in a while.

"Maura," Jane began slowly, gaze still tracing the crowd.

Maura's eyes stayed right on Jane's, ready to receive answers.

"Don't look now…don't look!" Jane seized Maura's arms as the medical examiner started to turn. Maura's eyes flew wide and she froze in place.

"Okay," Jane continued. "When I say, don't be obvious, but turn and take a look at the guy in the grey sharkskin suit and red tie. Ready? Now."

Maura pivoted and subtly scanned the crowd, searching for the man in question. She found him – Jane's indication of his style of suit helped. But he saw her, as well. Maura swiveled quickly. "Jane, I think he might've seen me."

Jane rolled her eyes. She sniffled quietly and guided Maura further back, towards the restrooms. "Do you remember a case from a while back…the Black Cord stranglings?"

"Yes! A cold case. Inconsistencies in choice of murder weapon and conflicting trace evidence proved insufficient to convict a killer."

Jane nodded. "It was one of the first big cases I worked on as a rookie in the drug unit." She swallowed.

"What does this have to do with –?"

"That guy I just had you look at was one of my top suspects, Keith Travers. But, like you said, there was never enough to pin it on him or anybody else. And…" Jane glanced back up in his direction.

"And?  
"We had history. He and I. Before the academy. In high school."

Maura tilted her head, intrigued. "High school, Jane." It wasn't exactly a question.

"He tried to ask me out a few times. But I basically couldn't stand him, so I kept saying no."

"He _is _attractive," Maura noted with a smirk. _Strong, well-developed jaw, long bones…_

"Yes, and a total asshole," Jane growled back. "Anyway, he went off to college, became a frat boy, and I joined the police academy. He didn't take too kindly to that; come to find out the fraternity he joined was secretly involved in some weird shit – there were rumors of drugs and some occult practices. And some bad blood between frat houses." She shrugged. "I didn't trust it, or him. So when the first of the Black Cord killings came up on BCU's campus, everybody had their suspicions."

"Naturally."

Jane nodded. Moved herself and Maura out of the way of some people moving to and from the restrooms. Stifled a cough into her sleeve.

"Jane. Maybe we should continue this conversation in the car heading back to your place?"

Jane ignored her and continued the story. "By the third strangling, we were getting frustrated. We had plenty of evidence, but nothing conclusive. And I still had a hunch that Keith was involved." She huffed a quick sigh of frustration at the memory. "No one bought it. They thought I was biased due to…past associations." She cleared her throat. "I guess Keith had been tracking the case through the news because he came to me one day with a proposition. See, he'd graduated, but still had real close ties to the fraternity. He basically offered to be my CI."

"In exchange for what?" Maura asked, no stranger to the motivating factors that drive a CI to approach police with information.

"Well, the frat had him dug in with some potential possession charges, but I think what he really wanted was…was me." She ducked her head, remembering how he'd tried to be so subtle when he came onto her, half desperate, have domineering. "I don't think he ever got over it after I turned him down…again. I tried to look at it objectively, and he didn't seem to have enough for me to make it worth the risk of taking him on as a CI."

"And it sounds like it would have been a significant risk. But Jane, what is he doing _here_?"

Jane frowned and shrugged. "I think he's the first cousin of one of the guys on the force. Somebody being honored tonight."

Maura snuck a glance over her shoulder. "Jane, I think he's coming this way."

Jane looked up. Travers was, in fact, headed straight for them, but he seemed to be looking for someone other than them. Then he locked eyes with Jane, and changed direction, making his way to the nearest exit. Jane watched him go, fighting to urge to follow him, to investigate. Something was still fishy about that man. She sniffled yet again.

Seeing the pre-chase glint in Jane's eye while taking in her fatigued posture brought Maura to a decision. She took Jane's arm firmly and started to lead her to a different exit. "You're exhausted. I'm taking you home so you can rest."

Jane stood stock still, resisting Maura's insistent tugging. She was coming to a decision of her own. "I can't."

Maura despaired of that set of her jaw, the bright gleam in her eye. Normally these changes in Jane thrilled Maura. But tonight she knew that once Jane became the huntress, there would be no getting her back until her suspicions were either confirmed or disproven.

Jane shook her head and took off after Travers. "Something's not right," she muttered. "I can just feel it."

"Jane, no…wait!"

Jane reached the exit that Travers had taken and stumbled into the chilly autumn air. He had come out through a service door that led to an alley driveway reserved for delivery trucks. The light back here was terrible; it was a narrow slot in the middle of the city, dominated by the ammoniac stench of stale urine and the putrescence of overfull garbage bins. Odors of human waste in all its forms were concentrated here, and they penetrated even Jane's inhibited olfactory.

Maura was right: she was exhausted. A slight fever was making her skin hurt all over. The last place she wanted to be was a cold, dark alley, and alone to boot. Yet here she was, her senses on high alert, keyed to the slightest hint of movement. She trod carefully, pulling her gun from her hip.

A muffled rustling up ahead, following by a crash, brought Jane's gun up. She stepped toward the sound.

The service door opened behind her.

Heels clacked on cement.

"Jane!" Maura's urgent voice came from the doorway.

Jane started and whipped around. "Maura! What're you –? Get back inside!" she hissed.

Maura clearly couldn't see Jane well in the shadows, but she stepped toward the detective's voice.

Jane moved into the light so Maura could see her. "Maura. Stop. Go. Back. Inside."

"Jane, no, I'm coming with you." She continued forward, jaw set firm, blonde curls swept back by her determined gait.

"It's not s– !"

A forearm wrapped around Jane's throat from behind, yanking her back.

"Jane!" Maura cried. She watched, helpless as Jane bucked and thrashed, resisting the assailant dragging her backwards into the shadows.

Pain exploded at the back of Maura's head and she crumpled, her shadowy surroundings blurring to black.

"I warned you, Rizzoli! Goddamnit!"

Maura awoke to angry male voices and the dank, metallic odor of an abandoned warehouse.

"Jane," she groaned, trying to roll over from her bound and prone position on the cement floor.

"She's awake," came a terse grunt from one of the voices.

A man in a white shirt and red silk tie came to stand over her. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Hello, Doctor."

"Travers." Maura said. She knew now, in her gut, that this man was Jane's enemy. That made him Maura's enemy, too.

The creases at the corners of his eyes deepened as his deceptively jovial smile grew broader. "So she's told you about me. You know who I am."

Maura said nothing. Her eyes darted down to look across the floor. Between Travers' shoes, she could see Jane bound in a similar position. A tall, endomorphic man in a BPD uniform stood over her. A tremor of fear traced its way down Maura's spine as she saw a rivulet of blood running from Jane's temple. She realized Jane was unconscious. Any effort to initiate an escape attempt would have to come from Maura.

Travers dropped to a crouch and seized Maura's face in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. "I think you should look at someone when they're talking to you, Doctor Isles. Its good manners," he snarled. She could feel his thumbnail biting into her cheek, pressing painfully against her zygomatic bone.

Jane moaned and began to stir.

Travers released Maura's face. "Our mutual friend has decided to join us, Doctor." He rose to his feet and strode across the warehouse floor. "Now I can tell you a little story since she's awake to verify the facts. Aren't you, Jane?" He drew his foot back to kick Jane in the ribs.

"No!" Maura shouted, tears springing from her lacrimal gland to the front of her eyes. Jane was clearly not cognizant of the physical danger she was in, which made Maura all the more panicked.

Travers' head swiveled to focus on Maura. "Aha. Just what I was hoping for. So there _is _something more between you."

In a sudden surge of fury, Maura glared fiercely up at him. "You can have nothing to say that I would want to hear."

He mocked her emotional response with a pouting look. "Would you rather I not harm our little Janie, Doctor Isles? Would that make you more keen to listen to me?"

Maura just shook her head, unable to keep from weeping on the cement floor.

Suddenly, his foot slammed into her side. "Learn some respect!"

Maura doubled, breathless, into a ball, pain spreading rapidly across her torso. If that kick didn't fracture her ribs, she was sure one more instance of well-aimed, blunt-force trauma would do the trick.

"That was always Jane's problem. A lack of respect for those who could really harm her. I see you share her idiotic pride," he spat. He turned to the still form of Jane Rizzoli. "CAN YOU HEAR ME, DETECTIVE? I gave you so many chances, and you blew me off! And I warned you. Oh, time and again I warned you there would be consequences." He bent forward at the waist, bringing his face to within inches of Jane's. "_I fucking warned you, Rizzoli._" Jane still didn't move. He faced Maura again, his expression now pleading. "You gotta understand something, Doctor. I was so in love with her for such a long time. You know how that feels, don't you? I know you do. You look at her, and you feel exactly the same way I did. She just has that affect, doesn't she?" Maura hated to admit that she had anything whatsoever in common with this man. But the truth was undeniable.

He shook his head, laughing as Maura uncurled slightly to get a better view of Jane. "All she had to do was accept what I offered. I could've given her so much: money, protection…but there were 'too many strings attached that she didn't care for'," he said, making air quotes with his fingers. He laughed again, dropping his hands. "Funny enough, the string she had the biggest problem with was me!"

The man in the BPD uniform chose that moment to leave Jane's side. He pulled a thin, black cord out of his back pocket and handed it to Travers. "Thank you, Brother," Travers said.

"You are both a part of the same fraternity?" Maura managed to ask. It hurt to breathe, much less speak. But she had to distract him somehow, to buy time.

"Astute deduction, Doctor Isles. I'm sure Jane filled you in on some of my college escapades?"

Maura managed to pull off a noncommittal shrug.

Travers' eyes narrowed menacingly for a moment, but then he smiled. Bent down over Maura, and lifted her by the arms. It was all Maura could do not to cry out in agony. The man in the BPD uniform helped him drag Maura over to a cement support and prop her in a seated position against it. "Did she tell you how I swallowed my pride even after she entered the drug unit? How I offered myself up as her CI? I don't think she even knew the risk that entailed for me. To betray the fraternity meant death by the black cord. But even after she became a cop," he ejected the word from his lips like a bitter seed, "I still wanted her. So badly, Doctor. I couldn't help myself! I wanted her in my life, and I wanted to be a part of hers."

He began unwinding the cord, and approached Jane's prone form. "But I finally saw the light. I would never have her. She could never be mine. Not while she breathed. So I decided," he glanced back at Maura as he bent over Jane, the uniform holding her down. "I decided that no one will."

Jane shifted then. "Maura." The medical examiner's name came as a barely audible whisper from the detective's lips. Her eyelids started to flutter open.

Maura's heart constricted painfully. Her ribs and skull throbbed.

"But then again." Travers exchanged a glance with the uniformed man. He rose again to his feet and faced Maura. "Then again, perhaps it would be sweeter to make her watch as I take from her what she always thought she had the right to deny me. If she wants to be left alone, then so be it." And he grinned, extending the short cord between his hands as he now drew closer to Maura. "Make her kneel," he ordered the other man.

Maura struggled frantically to crawl away, but Travers stopped her with another kick to the ribs. She collapsed, coughing.

Jane sprang into action with a shriek of animal rage, swinging both legs around to trip the cop, sitting upright and ripping the gun from his hip as he fell. She pushed onto her elbows and squeezed off a shot at Travers. The bullet struck his clavicle and he went down.

The cop started to rise and wrestle the gun from Jane's hands. He got enough leverage to swing her around and slam her shoulder into another cement support. He came at her with the gun, but she recovered just enough to aim one swift kick at his groin. He went down in a heap, gasping, sobbing, and clutching his manhood.

Jane struggled to her feet and strode over to Maura, a triangular shard of corrugated tin clutched in her still-bound hands.

"Jane," Maura whispered hoarsely when she came close.

"Can you walk?" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she used the metal sliver to slice through Maura's bindings.

"Not sure," Maura said, slowly starting to rise with Jane's arms supporting her. She reached a certain angle, gasped at the excruciating pain, and collapsed again in a faint.

"Maura!" Jane cried, cradling the unconscious woman in her arms. She drew the medical examiner close, shudders running through her body. She coughed weakly. Her skull throbbed in response, and Maura groaned softly against her chest. Jane brushed a strand of red-gold hair from Maura's face and placed a desperate kiss on the unconscious woman's forehead. Her head snapped up when she heard sirens in the distance. Through a narrow opening in a garage door at one end of the warehouse, she could see the flicker of red and blue lights. She looked back down at Maura's face. "Hold on, Maura." She kissed her again. Slid her fingers through that sleek hair. "Hold on for me, baby."

Maura opened her eyes to find Jane sitting next to her hospital bed, holding her hand with a look of desperate hope in her dark eyes. Her other arm was in a sling.

"Hey," Jane said quietly with a tremulous smile.

"Hey," Maura said, managing a weak smile back.

"I'm glad to see you awake." Words were a challenge for Jane right now. Her voice was huskier than usual and tears perched precariously on her lower lashes.

"How long have you been here?" Maura asked.

Jane shifted in her seat and ducked her head, but said nothing.

"Jane. Look at me."

Jane looked up. Maura took in her face. The butterfly closures at her temple. The characteristic periorbital discoloration, and envisioned Jane up all night, pacing, alternating between the lobby and this room. Literally making herself sick with worry. _More sick, that is,_ Maura thought as she remembered that Jane had been battling a strain of influenza for a while. But all Maura said was, "Are you okay? You look terrible."

"Maura, don't you even ask about me! You're the one who –," the words choked off abruptly as tears threatened to overwhelm her. She lowered her head again, fingertips pressed to her lips. Then she winced and put her hand down, the sling reminding her of her dislocated shoulder.

Maura squeezed her other hand in reassurance. "Jane. It's over. I'll be fine. They'll probably keep me here overnight to make sure. But it's over now." She could feel the sensation of the globus pharyngis rapidly developing in her throat as she fought back her own tears. Her amygdala's sympathetic response was especially attuned to the sight of Jane's tears.

Jane nodded, composing herself. "I know. It's just – after Frost…there's no way I'd survive losing you, too," she whispered brokenly.

"I'm not going anywhere just yet," Maura said, rubbing her forearm.

They remained silent for an indefinite amount of time, listening to the muffled hospital sounds in the hallway outside Maura's room. For a while, Maura watched her companion's face as the other woman stared off into space. Mental turmoil played on those familiar features like a staged drama. Jane's jaw muscles quivered in tension as a result of clenched teeth – a common way for the body to register stress.

"Stop blaming yourself, Jane."

"What? Who says I'm –?" But she stopped, cut off by Maura's expression of "_Don't even think about lying to me._"

"I shouldn't have gone after you," Maura said after a moment. "But neither of us should've been out there without backup."

Jane nodded in agreement. Through her exhaustion, a glint of pride came into her eye. "We put him away, though. And his cousin, Larsen. The uniform." She shook her head. "What a shitty thing to do. Walk right out of getting a medal in honor of your service and go back to being a perp."

Maura couldn't help but chuckle at the fire that never quite left Jane's essence.

Eventually, Maura drifted off to sleep, and Jane soon followed suit, resting her forehead on the edge of the bed.

Maura awakened to a couple of nurses coming in to check on her. She gently pulled her hand from Jane's relaxed grasp and placed it on the still sleeping detective's head. She stroked the dark curls, hoping to coax Jane awake.

Jane lifted her head and gave her a bleary-eyed look of confusion. The nurses bustled around them, making the necessary changes and adjustments.

"Jane, you should probably go home," she said gently.

The detective straightened, fully awake. "No! I'm not leaving you."

"I'll be out tomorrow, I promise." She smiled. "You can pick me up."

Jane stood. "Promise me you'll call _the second_ they let you out."

"The very second."

Jane nodded, mollified for the moment. She hesitated a moment longer, then bent forward and placed the most tender of kisses on Maura's forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow."

A week later found Maura back in autopsy. She was definitely moving slower due to her knitting ribs, and morning runs with Jane were still out of the question, but there were murders to solve. She couldn't stay away any longer.

"Thank you, Susie." She finished her brief conference with her Senior Criminalist, and snapped the latex gloves off her hands. She arranged her findings in their customary manila folder and headed for the elevator up to the homicide floor. She was excited to share what she'd discovered with Jane, knowing the detective had been increasingly flustered with the lack of leads on her current case.

The elevator dinged and she stepped into the squad room.

Sergeant Korsak was there to greet her, but it still felt strange not seeing Frost's smiling face as well. Even more strange, today, Frost's desk wasn't the only one that was unoccupied.

"Where's Jane?"

Korsak shrugged. "Said she was going for more coffee." His expression said he didn't buy it.

Maura didn't either. She frowned.

Korsak pulled out his cell. "I'll call her."

He hung up again after a quick, monosyllabic conversation. "She's in your office."

Maura quirked a brow and headed back to the elevator.

She found Jane stretched out on the couch that she had complained about so many times, one arm flung over her eyes.

"What're you doing?"

"I felt lightheaded," Jane groaned.

"Jane." She set the manila folder down on her desk and approached the couch.

"What."

"Did you eat today?"

"Maybe." She sounded terribly congested and hoarser than usual.

"Jane, look at me."

The arm reluctantly moved, and Jane met Maura's eyes. She looked perfectly pathetic.

Maura put her palm against the detective's forehead. "You're really hot."

Jane snorted. "Thanks. I'm flattered."

Maura let out an exasperated sigh. "You should be home." Her hand remained on Jane's forehead. "In bed." Without thinking, she began to softly, slowly stroke Jane's hair back from her face. "Subjecting yourself to this much stress over a case is elevating your cortisol levels. It's counterproductive to all the work your immune system is doing to recover from sickness." She tried to appeal to Jane's pragmatic sense of duty. The detective's eyes fell closed, half from exhaustion and half from the pleasure of Maura's touch. "And if your condition continues to worsen, you won't be of any use to anybody."

Jane lay there for a moment longer, eyes still shut. Maura wondered if she'd fallen asleep. "Jane?"

The detective opened one eye and directed it to Maura's hand – the one that wasn't stroking her hair. Maura followed her gaze and realized they'd been holding hands presumably this entire time. She let go abruptly. Jane smirked and sat up slowly, stiffly. "Alright, good talk. What do you got for me?"

"No."

Jane's head snapped up to look at the medical examiner. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

Maura laughed in spite of herself as she grabbed Jane's forearm to help her up. "I mean, 'No, I'm not telling you anything because you're going home'."

Jane got to her feet and swayed, feeling lightheaded again, and shivery. "I don't think that's your call to make."

Maura steadied her. "Oh yes it is." She dropped her voice and leaned in close, a no-nonsense expression firmly in place. "Doctor's orders."

After the detective nearly collapsed in the doorway to Maura's office, the doctor concluded that Jane was too weak to be making multiple trips up and down the BPD building. Despite the detective's whining, Maura managed to get her back on the couch to wait until she'd gathered all of Jane's things so she could go home.

"Where are you two going, Doctor Isles?" Lieutenant Cavanagh stopped her at Jane's desk.

"Oh, I'll be back, Lieutenant." She leaned closer and lowered her voice confidentially. The entire homicide unit didn't need to know that Jane was going home with the flu. "Jane is running a fever and she can barely stand. It is my professional opinion that she should be home, resting."

Cavanagh nodded his understanding. "She certainly has my permission."

Maura smiled. "Thank you, sir." She turned to go.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

Cavanagh drew closer, adopting her confidential demeanor. "If Rizzoli needs to lay low for a bit, so be it. Just make sure she _stays down _so she can beat this thing. The unit needs her."

Maura smiled again in appreciation of his gruff concern. "Of course."

By the time Jane got in Maura's car, she was too chilled, achy, and exhausted to care where the medical examiner took her. Once the car started moving, she fell asleep almost instantly. Maura had to gently shake her awake when they pulled into the driveway.

"Jane, we're here. Can you get out?"

The half-lucid Jane gave a slow, tiny nod, and opened the door.

Maura led her inside, straight to the bedroom, and helped her lay down. She immediately went back to sleep.

"I'll see you later," Maura whispered, and quietly closed the door behind her.

Jane woke up in a moment of panic. This was not her room. This was not her apartment. Then she mentally reoriented herself, and the familiar sights and scents indicated that she was in Maura's home. Her tense muscles relaxed.

She rolled over and looked at the clock on the nightstand. 7:38 PM.

_Damn, how did I sleep for five hours? In Maura's bed, no less!_

On the nightstand next to the clock were her cell, her gun – Maura knew her well enough to leave it close by her to preserve her sense of security while alone – and four little tablets with a glass of water and a note:

_Jane, _

_Take these when you wake up. They'll help bring the fever down._

Jane obediently swallowed the four tablets at once and flopped back on the pillow. _Maura. _Taking care of her even when she wasn't around. _"Well, somebody has to,"_ she'd say.

She heard the front door close. Shut her eyes again, figuring Maura would not be pleased to find that she wasn't still sleeping.

Sure enough, a few more minutes brought Maura tiptoeing into the room. She went straight to the nightstand to see if Jane had woken up and taken the meds she'd left. Satisfied that they were gone, she quietly slipped back out.

Jane soon heard the sounds of a light dinner being prepared, and she realized that her appetite had returned with her drop in body temperature. She opened her eyes, slowly rolled off the bed, and wandered into the main living area.

"What are you doing awake? Go back to bed, Jane."

"I heard food sounds. You can't expect me to stay comatose when there's food."

Maura wrestled with a smile. "Well, I'm at least glad to see you feel like eating. Pasta pomodoro okay?"

"Sounds wonderful." Jane pushed up onto the counter and sat there. Maura tried to shoot her a disapproving look, but it was overruled by an amused curve of the lips. Abruptly, she set down the wooden spoon she was using to stir the boiling pasta, and approached Jane. Her hand once again pressed to Jane's forehead.

"It's down a little," she said.

Jane nodded. "It feels like it."

Maura regarded her with a sudden, sober look, hazel gaze intense. "You've pushed yourself far too hard these past few weeks." She took Jane's hand and held it purposefully. Her thumbs lightly pressed and rubbed the scar on the back of it, a habitual gesture of deep affection.

Jane closed her eyes and felt herself relax, felt herself let go at the soothing, familiar contact. The tension that had been holding her together for weeks finally drained away. She felt empty, but free.

"Promise me you won't do this ever again."

Jane opened her eyes and looked straight into Maura's, thinking. She felt herself leaning imperceptibly closer. Her mind raced in high gear right up until the moment their lips met. Then it was like slamming on the emergency brake of her thoughts. There had been everything at once, fighting for air time, and then there had been nothing. Nothing at all, except Maura.

Maura's hand lightly cupped the back of her head, fingers slipping through her hair.

They gently broke apart and stared at each other for a moment, their breathing ragged.

"No guarantees," Jane said. They both smiled.

"I've said it before, but I'll say it again because it bears repeating: I love you, Jane."

Jane laughed and hopped down from the counter. Drew Maura into her arms and kept her there. "I love you, too," she said, not quite able to keep the tender break from her voice.

That night was the first night in weeks that Jane slept all the way through, completely nightmare free.


End file.
